Pool of Tears
by agentpippin
Summary: Ginny Weasley is dead. Draco Malfoy blames himself for not being able to save her. Really angsty type thing. Not the most original plot, either, but I like it.
1. Ginny's influence

I read someone's D/G angstfic today, but whose? Oh, who really gives a damn, the point is I wrote one of my own. I'm in a   
sad little D/G mood.   
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Draco."  
  
That's all he ever heard lately. Potter's current catchphrase and Granger's attempt at consolation. Well, there was no   
consolation for him. Not for a long while.  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Draco."   
  
They stood around him, looking murky and detached due to the tears that threatened in Draco's eyes. He refused to let them   
fall, not one single drop. Ginny was the first one to see him cry. It was an accident, really, that chance encounter in the   
Astronomy Tower late at night, so many years ago. Finding the place free of snogging couples, Draco had sought refuge in the   
endless sky and its many lights. They twinkled and shimmered in his vision as he started to cry.  
  
It wasn't the pain of the beatings so much as the pain of knowing he was alone that really hurt him. He remembered thinking   
at the time that Lucius Malfoy was an arrogant bastard who deserved to be killed slowly, by the same methods he used to   
discipline Draco. He also remembered thinking that, as a seventh year, he deserved better. He laughed bitterly at himself.   
Nobody deserved anything just because they were seventeen.  
  
"Malfoys are not weak," his father's voice came back to him through the mist of memory. "Nor are they sniveling brats who cry  
about every little thing. For example," he said, and smacked Draco across the face. Draco had stood there, stunned, only   
about 10 years old. Tears came instantly, but, afraid to provoke his father's wrath, he tried to keep them from rolling down   
his cheeks.   
  
Success was not to be had, and as soon as the first tear appeared, he was slapped again. And again, and again, until he   
learned his lesson. His mother had learned to stay out of Lucius' way when he was dealing with Draco, having received the   
same treatment a couple times before.   
  
Over the years, Draco learned to slow and then stop the tears altogether. He would bite his tongue until blood trickled back  
into his throat, he would pinch his hand so hard it would break the skin and leave bloody fingerprints on his robes. His   
mother said nothing about the extra load of laundry this made for her, but looked at her son with such sadness that Draco   
felt inclined to point out that she was the only one running the household - if she left, Lucius Malfoy's life would be   
ruined. But she did nothing.  
  
When Narcissa looked at him like that and he realized that his first reaction was to warn her about provoking Lucius, he knew  
he had been imprinted irreversibly. He would always be afraid of his father, skittering around his feet like their many   
house-elves, trying not to set off the firecracker named Lucius Malfoy.   
  
He had been sitting there, contemplating the summer, and brooding that most of it would be spent avoiding his father. His   
heart twisted as he realized that he was far more comfortable at Hogwarts than at home. "Hogwarts is my home," he said to   
himself, and closed his eyes as the tears came. He let them fall freely, not knowing when he would get the chance to do so   
again. Opening his eyes, he traced a finger in the pool of tears that had collected.  
  
A slight movement caught his eye, and he whirled to survey the tower. He prided himself on his night vision, and almost   
nothing went unnoticed by his sharp gray gaze. It was just a matter of deciding whether or not he needed to react to it.   
  
In this case, the source of the noise was something worth reacting to. A glint of red hair and a sleeve of black cloak was   
enough to tell him that one of the many, many Weasleys was up here spying on him.   
  
He jumped to his feet, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "Who the hell is out there?" he demanded furiously. "I know it's   
one of you damned Weasleys, so get the hell out here!"  
  
The unnamed Weasley froze. Absolutely froze. Even Draco's keen night senses couldn't pick out the cloak from the shadows   
that dappled the tower's stone walls. The bitter wind whipped at his tear-stained cheeks, and he impatiently pushed his   
silver hair out of his eyes.  
  
"I mean it, I've got my wand and I swear I'll hex you out right now, I'm in a rather bad mood," he challenged. One slight   
shift of black cloth was all he got.   
  
After a tense pause, the Weasley spoke. "Rather bad mood, indeed. And I thought you weren't able to cry."   
  
"Weasley!" Draco hollered. "You are trying my patience, and that is not a good idea considering the circumstances."   
  
"No need to get shirty with me, Malfoy, I'm well aware of the circumstances." The littlest Weasley suddenly moved into view -  
Ginny. Draco felt more in control. A younger girl, and a Weasley to boot? Piece of cake.   
  
"Listen, Weasley," Draco sneered. "No one asked for your company up here. I certainly didn't."  
  
"I was walking by and I heard someone crying," she retorted, not caring about the edge in his voice.   
  
"Bugger for you. Now go away."  
  
"Well, are you all right? Bloody hell, what am I saying. You're probably sniveling about one of your bodyguards leaving you   
for some real friends," she muttered.  
  
"Yes, you haven't any idea how much that upsets me, Weasley. Why?" he queried, letting his eyes travel down her black-clad   
body, eyes lingering around the short cut of the Hogwarts skirt. "Come to comfort me?"  
  
"Don't even think it, you bloody great prat," she spat at him. "You're disgusting."  
  
"Thank you," he said absently. "If you haven't come here to play master and slave, then go away."  
  
"You are an enormous arsehole, you know that?" she demanded, blushing. Draco grinned lazily. "There's the door. See you   
later, my little handmaiden."  
  
Ginny glared daggers at him. "A complete, utter arsehole." She turned on her heel and disappeared into the shadows.   
  
Little Virginia's gotten up a bit of spunk since her fifth year, Draco mused. Something else is different, too- "Weasley,"   
he called after Ginny.   
  
The moving shadow stopped. "What do you want?"  
  
"Have you done something to your hair?" Sure enough, as Ginny turned to face him, her locks glinted silkily in the moonlight.  
Her hair fell in tumbled curls just past her shoulders. "Nothing much," she said warily. "Sleakeazy's Hair Potion."  
  
Draco nodded. "Nice."  
  
Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "What?"  
  
"I said it's nice," Draco repeated.   
  
"Oh." She turned back, and continued walking. "Thank you," she added over her shoulder.   
  
Draco sat back and looked at the sky. Oddly enough, the stars seemed warmer than they had when he started crying. It probably  
wasn't just him, either.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
Don't worry, there'll be more. Just waaay too lazy to type it all up. The really angsty stuff starts in the next couple   
chapters... 


	2. Draco's punishment

Hey all you people out there, visit the newest Harry Potter fanfiction archive: Charmed Diagon Alley! http://www.angelfire.com/wizard/charmedda/main.html  
The idea of the Vivacia Charm belongs to Cassandra Claire, who is hailed as a genius in many, many HP-loving homes across the world. Everyone you   
recognize isn't mine. The rest is.  
  
xXxXxXxXx  
  
"Cheers!"  
  
Wine flowed, food was passed around on large silver platters, and Draco and Ginny celebrated their first anniversary. It  
wasn't really an anniversary like a wedding anniversary, it was just their way to mark the years since they had put aside   
their differences and moved in together, both working as Aurors for the Ministry of Magic. Their sense of fun had kept both  
Gryffindors and Slytherins laughing, and not much had changed this year. In light of their recently acquired profession,   
everyone was required to wear black, and speak in code. The attempt at pig latin from Harry had been abandoned with much   
laughter early on, and everyone was chatting merrily - in whatever language they chose.  
  
Then the door had banged open. Seamus Finnigan, face ruddy and hair windblown, dashed inside. His freckles, still apparent at  
20 years old, had been even more prominent that night on his bloodless face. "Death Eaters," he gasped, clutching a stitch in  
his side.   
  
The place had gone up in an uproar. Draco and Ginny had grabbed their wands and unsheathed the poisoned daggers they kept at   
times such as this, when Voldemort's supporters were getting ever more persistant. The poison was not deadly, but was a   
slightly diluted version of the Draft of Living Death, an immensely powerful sleeping potion. They herded everyone to the   
back of the room, away from the windows, aided by Harry and Lavender. The four, all Aurors, faced the door with daggers and   
wands ready.   
  
Harry glanced over at Lavender. "How many?"  
  
Lavender, given special respect by the others because of her genuine Divination talents, closed her eyes and muttered to   
herself. "Thirty... maybe forty," she said solemnly, opening her eyes after a pause.   
  
Harry cursed. "We have to get everyone else out."  
  
"Go by Floo, through the fireplace," Ginny urged the crowd huddled behind them. "Get to the Ministry and tell them there's a  
mob of Death Eaters storming the place. Go!"  
  
They scrambled to obey, to get out of the suddenly volatile situation. Bright green flames engulfed person after person,   
until the four Aurors were the only ones left in the room.   
  
A thunderous clap resounded throughout the room and the bolted door shuddered. Piercing green light could be seen from   
between the cracks of the old wooden door, and there were several muted shrieks.  
  
Beside Draco, Harry Potter screamed, clutched at his forehead and collapsed. Lavender fainted.   
  
"They're far too sensitive," Ginny muttered to Draco.   
  
Draco glanced at the two, passed out on the floor. "I'll say. So much for Harry Potter the Lion-Hearted."  
  
Ginny was nervous, and she became impatient and curt at times like these. "No, you idiot, I mean they're sensitive to Lord   
Voldemort's presence. Harry's scar was hurting him, didn't you see? And Lavender, although frankly not being the best Auror   
in the world, is certainly our best Seer. Her mind is sensitive to the things around her, and the Death Eaters must have   
attacked it."  
  
"Well that's just bloody brilliant," Draco muttered, hearing the screams and clanging of metal getting closer.   
  
The door burst open. A crowd of Death Eaters were massed in the doorway, their black hoods casting deep shadows over their   
faces. Draco did not need to see their faces to identify them - he had been in school with many of them. Gregory Goyle and   
Vincent Crabbe were probably at the back of the group, being too stupid to do anything but follow orders. Pansy Parkinson,   
out of pure bitterment that Draco had joined the ranks of many Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as an Auror, had become a Death   
Eater. Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, Millicent Bulstrode, they were more than likely all here.   
  
The leader raised a heavy-gloved hand. "We have taken most of your Hufflepuff-" he said the word as though it were poisonous-  
"friends, and the rest have been killed. Cooperate and we will not do the same to you."  
  
"We don't cooperate with murderers," Ginny spat, voice trembling. "Those were our friends."  
  
Those who graduated from Hogwarts and chose to work for the Defense league of the Ministry of Magic were put into service   
depending on their Houses. Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws were the Aurors, most of them being best at Defense Against The   
Dark Arts. Most of the Ravenclaws were the battle directors, specializing in psychology, modern history and medieval warfare.  
The Hufflepuffs were mostly medical support, using their nursing and medical skills to tend to those afflicted by the war.   
Slytherins, of course, were nearly entirely their enemies.  
  
Ginny had known the medical backup team well. She had become friends with Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had long ago forgiven   
Harry for the nasty incident in his second year. The two were wonderful friends, and Ginny prayed that he had not been hurt.  
  
Draco tugged at the small silver charm that hung around his neck. Ginny had given it to him exactly one year ago, telling him  
that it would protect him and give him strength. He was sure that if there was ever a time when he needed it, it was now.   
  
There was a shing of metal as the entire mob of Death Eaters drew swords. Rapiers, cutlasses, daggers were all aimed at the  
two barring their way into the small chamber. The window banged open and a gust of bitter wind swirled through the room,   
scattering loose parchments everywhere.  
  
"Avada Kedavra!" the leader intoned in a deep voice. Draco felt, as though in slow motion, a wave of pain wash through him.   
"Ginny-" he cried out.  
  
"Vivacia Draco!" Ginny yelled.   
  
Instead of the world going suddenly black, Draco saw the color merely sucked out of it. Around him, everything became   
grayscale. Ginny's hair was no longer a vivid red, only a dark gray. The yellow light of the flickering chandeliers swinging   
above them dulled to a pale grey. "Something's wrong," Draco thought frantically. For a split second he could feel Ginny's   
mind - fear and determination and sadness all rolled into a mental brick wall that slammed into him with the force of the   
Killing Curse itself.   
  
"I can't be dying," Draco's brain screamed. He overbalanced with the force of the howling wind, roaring in his ears. Stars   
exploded in his vision and the silver charm glinted in the flickering green light. He hit the floor and looked up to see the  
first Death Eater looming over him, long black cloak flapping around its craggy, menacing figure. Color, although dark and   
blurred, had returned to his vision.  
  
"I'm definitely not dying," he thought, scrambling to his feet. "But how?"  
  
The answer to his question was Ginny, lying limp on the floor next to him. Her nose was bleeding and staining her cheek.   
Draco's mouth sagged open. Why had he survived and Ginny had not?  
  
Ginny had not. The three words echoed harshly in Draco's mind, penetrating the shock.  
  
Ginny had not survived.  
  
They had killed her, but he had survived. Why? Was he immune to the Killing Curse?  
  
Ginny was not. Ginny was dead.  
  
"You killed her," Draco breathed, staring at Ginny's body. "She's dead."   
  
He turned on the Death Eater. "You killed her!" he growled, reaching into his robes for his wand.  
  
The Death Eater was quite obviously perplexed. He turned back to his colleagues for an instant, muttering a curt order and   
gesturing at Ginny.   
  
That second was all Draco needed. His fingers had come in contact with his dagger instead of his wand, and he grabbed it   
and leapt at the leader with a rage fueled by the sight of Ginny's blood and her vacant expression.   
  
"You murdering bastard!" Draco yelled. The Death Eater half-turned back to Draco, but the enraged Slytherin plunged the   
poisoned knife straight into the other's chest.   
  
Blood spurted and the leader fell shrieking, an ear-piercing sound that rattled the windowpanes and revived Harry Potter. The   
dark-haired Auror stumbled groggily to his feet, fumbling for his wand. His confused gaze did not fall upon Ginny's body,   
lying at Draco's feet along with the remains of the Death Eaters' ringleader.  
  
A dissonant murmur swept through the band of Death Eaters. They evidently felt that the loss of their leader was not helping   
their situation, and many of them fled.   
  
Draco retrieved the dagger from the leader's chest. "This has as much poison as I need to get rid of the bloody lot of you,"  
he hissed dangerously, "so if I were you I'd clear off."  
  
This was apparently enough to sway the stragglers. The few remaining Death Eaters turned and swiftly disappeared down the   
long corridor, the blond Auror in black robes watching after them.  
  
Draco stood motionless for a long time. Harry, having spotted Ginny's body, was cradling her head in his lap and remained   
quiet. He tenderly wiped away the blood trickling out of her mouth and nose. His tears splashed silently on the younger girl's  
still face.  
  
Draco slowly turned and let the dagger fall to the floor. It clattered on the stone, painfully loud in the dead quiet, and   
Harry looked up, pale and shocked.  
  
"Draco-" Harry's voice was raw. "I'm sorry."  
  
Silhouetted by the stark moonlight flooding the dark room, Draco seemed to be etched in silver shadows. The part of his face  
that Harry could see was completely still, and the Gryffindor feared he had gone into shock. There was complete silence.  
  
"She made that charm for you specially," Harry said quietly, indicating the silver charm that was still bound about Draco's   
neck with a leather cord. "It's called a Vivacia Charm. It transfers any injury the bearer receives onto the one who made   
the charm."  
  
Draco spoke then. "She took my bullet?" His voice was soft.  
  
"Yes, I suppose you could say that. I don't think she told you what it was, did she." It was not phrased as a question, but   
Draco answered anyways. "No."  
  
Harry got up and approached Draco. Letting his hand rest on the other boy's shoulder, Harry looked back at Ginny. As Draco   
turned to face him, Harry noticed the moon-shaped charm glint. Its light was friendly and merry, as though nothing had just   
happened, as though that very charm had not just indirectly killed Ginny Weasley. Harry had a sudden urge to rip it off   
Draco's neck and stomp on it.  
  
Harry forced himself to concentrate. "Don't... don't blame yourself, Draco."  
  
Lavender awoke with a start. "Ginny!" she gasped, sitting bolt upright.   
  
Harry took the distraught girl to the corner of the room, leaving Draco to look after Ginny's body. He sank to his knees in   
front of her and clasped her hand in both of his. "Ginny," he whispered, voice hoarse and painful. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm so  
sorry."  
  
He brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes. "Why would you do this for me?"   
  
Draco sat there for a while. Harry caught his last uttered words as he stood up, gazing down at Ginny Weasley.  
  
"Was I worth that much?"  
  
xXx  
  
Draco had resolved not to cry. And yet, tears were threatening his vision, blurring the heart-wrenching scene. Ginny was   
dead. There was nothing he could do about it. Why, then, did he feel like if he got the tears out, he would be better off?  
  
They were all there, that bitter Sunday afternoon, pale-faced and somber. Ron had tears streaming down his face. Hermione's   
jaw was clenched and her breathing was shallow. Harry closed his eyes and clasped his hands, tears dripping onto the hard   
soil. The wind bit at their hands and ears, and black gloves or black cloaks were wrapped around them. They watched the   
procession bearing Ginny's casket.  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Draco."  
  
The whispers in his mind hissed it at him every second. And yet, he did. He blamed himself because it was his own fault.   
"Why didn't I ask what it was? Why didn't I look it up? Why didn't I take her seriously when she said it would protect me?"  
he berated himself constantly. He was grieving, in his own way, although apart from being pale and not eating, he didn't show  
it. Others cried - Draco blamed himself, because that was what he had been taught. "It's your own fault, you fix it."  
  
"Don't blame yourself, Draco."  
  
Ginny's casket was lifted into the grave. Draco finally gave in.   
  
A pool of tears collected on the engraved surface of the casket, splashing over the inscription and soaking into the ground  
as it was covered in earth.  
  
Draco cried, and the punishment was far worse than any physical abuse.   
  
Ginny was dead. 


End file.
